All for Freedom and for Pleasure
by Liete
Summary: -US/UK?, AU- 'Squatting in front of him with a Cheshire Cat grin on his face was Alfred Jones—international thief and the very person Arthur had spent months trying to catch.'


**All for Freedom and for Pleasure  
**

**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.**

**A/N: I was playing the DOS game Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? from my childhood and this idea spawned. It's another one of those things I feel like I may be tempted to continue, but no promises.**

**Warnings: Language, _slightly_ suggestive material, and blatant misuse of Interpol.**

* * *

Even the worst of Arthur's hangovers—which he'd had many of lately—didn't give him the splitting headache he had when he roused from sleep he didn't remember falling into. He groaned and tried to reach for the glass of water he always kept by his bedside, but found that he couldn't move his hands.

"What…?"

Arthur finally opened his eyes and tried his best to focus through his muddled thoughts. There was only a faint light, but it was enough that Arthur could identify the person in front of him. When he did, any remaining haze over him vanished.

Squatting in front of him with a Cheshire Cat grin on his face was Alfred Fucking Jones—international thief and the very person Arthur had spent months trying to catch.

"You—!" Arthur started to struggle, realizing that he was bound to a chair in the middle of a room—a warehouse? Judging by the way his voice echoed, that seemed the most likely scenario. "Where the fuck am I? What are you doing?"

Alfred carefully rose to a standing position and stood over Arthur for a moment, his grin never fading, and then he walked away.

"You know…" Alfred flicked on another lamp on a nearby desk, giving Arthur a better look at his surroundings. It definitely looked like a warehouse. "I've had a lot of you Interpol guys chasing after me, but no one's been the pain in the ass you are."

Arthur exhaled slowly through his nose and tossed his head. He prided himself on his persistence. He'd gotten far closer to catching Alfred than any other detective who had been assigned to the case. It had consumed him—if he wasn't actively looking for Alfred, he was examining the evidence. He had vowed to catch Alfred even if it killed him—a self-fulfilling prophecy, it seemed.

"So? Are you going to kill me then?"

By then Alfred had walked back to stand in front of Arthur, the new light allowing Arthur to see the very _distracting_ tight jeans and turtleneck Alfred was wearing. Arthur swallowed hard and kept his head up as Alfred held up his hands with a lopsided smile and a shake of his head.

"Aww, come on! Don't be like that! I'm just a humble thief, not a murderer!"

That made Arthur snort and forget all about Alfred's damnably distracting choice of attire. "Ha! Humble. Next you'll tell me that you're a modern day Robin Hood or some other rubbish."

The smile that appeared on Alfred's face made Arthur uncomfortable in more ways than one. He desperately wished to have control of his hands at that moment. Alfred put one hand on his hip and leaned over Arthur to grip the chair with the other.

"Heh. It's just…_fun_ to watch you guys scramble around trying to figure out how I can always get away with it. _Really_ fun."

Arthur squared his jaw and tilted his head away from Alfred's too close face. If only he had the use of his hands, he could be arresting the bastard and making him pay for his cheek. He could be lauded for his capture of the infamous criminal and not feeling his traitorous face heating up or noting the exceptional blue of Alfred's eyes or any of the other wretched thoughts he was having.

"And, you know, speaking of fun, think I'll just…"

With a suspicious twinkle in his eyes, Alfred reached down for Arthur's trousers. Arthur inhaled sharply, the rush of blood to his face pounding in his ears. He felt Alfred's hands on his thigh, reaching around to grope at his arse. He panted, his thoughts going haywire with yes, _yes_, he wanted this and how _fucking_ dare Alfred humiliate him like this.

Then Alfred suddenly pulled away, flashing Arthur's Interpol badge with a wink and a grin.

"…take this as a little souvenir."

Arthur gaped while Alfred twirled around and walked away across the warehouse with his hands held up in a dismissive shrug.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but my next heist calls. Don't worry, though! The cops should be here soon to pick you up!"

Arthur's eyes widened and he thrashed on the chair, only succeeding in making it teeter precariously.

"Don't you dare leave me here! You fucking—!"

But Alfred disappeared into bright sunshine, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

"Not a single jewel was left behind this time, sir. Seems he's getting cocky."

Arthur had to hand it to the officers he worked with—they were doing a marvelous job of avoiding the subject of how they'd found Arthur tied to a chair in a warehouse with Alfred's eagle pin calling card on the desk nearby. He'd have to petition for them to get a raise of some kind.

He nodded, his frown deepening as he surveyed the scene. A heavily guarded museum, high tech security with alarms and surveillance to keep the precious jewels safe—all breached. As usual, it seemed that Alfred had worked so meticulously as to not leave any clues. Arthur knew better—he'd been getting much better at seeing what _wasn't_ there rather than what was. Just as he was about to look deeper into the scene, the officer cleared his throat, making Arthur turn to regard him.

"He left a note instead of the eagle pin, though. It's addressed to you, sir."

Arthur blinked but took the folded note labeled "Arthur" with a heart drawn next to it. Arthur's face immediately burned and he turned away from the curious eyes of the officers on the scene. He unfolded the note and covered his mouth with his hand as he read.

_Miss me, sweetheart?_

_I hope you appreciate the extra time I put into this heist just for you. I can't wait to see if you'll figure it out and find the other message I left for you. ;)_

_By the way, I think I'll start wearing your badge around. It looks way better on me anyway._

_Love,_

_Alfred_

Arthur crushed the note in his fist and bit back the torrent of curse words that threatened to spill from his lips. His body trembled with the effort.

"Something wrong, sir?"

Arthur froze, remembering the other officers, and then ran his hand over his face as though he was merely frustrated instead of trying to hide his furious blush. He turned around and glared.

"Of course something is fucking wrong, you idiot! He got away again!"

The officers jolted and scrambled about, leaving Arthur to shake his head and turn his attention back to the crime scene. No matter how he tried to fight it, though, his thoughts kept drifting back to the note. When he was certain no one was watching, he stepped to the side out of view.

He smoothed out the note and read its contents again and then again. Miss me, sweetheart? Miss me, sweetheart? Sweetheart.

His superior had told him not long before that he was afraid Arthur was getting too emotionally involved in the case and it was starting to hinder his ability to work effectively. Arthur had brushed the comment off, stating that he had no emotional stake except intense drive to put Alfred away once and for all.

As he shoved the note into his pocket and stomped back to the scene, Arthur had to admit that he _was_ getting emotionally involved. He managed to convince himself that it was only because he wanted to be the one to not only catch Alfred, but also be the one to wipe that cocky grin off his face.

His cheeks were burning from humiliation at getting foiled again, of course.

Sweetheart, indeed.


End file.
